


The Harch

by JessKo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Horror, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mind Control, Mystery, Slavery, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessKo/pseuds/JessKo
Summary: Sent to the wrong coordinates, Zeb and Alexsandr have to fight their way out of a mysterious castle with an eccentric host to escape with their lives.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](https://mamidlo.tumblr.com/post/187485469010/kalluzeb-spooky-time) wonderful art by mamidlo on Tumblr and our conversations regarding turning the linked poster into a story! I hope you enjoy it~

“Are you positive that these are the correct coordinates?” Zeb asked, green eyes tracing the various displays on the ship’s control console, and then looking out at the grey-blue planet before them. This was most certainly not the Hosnian system. 

The man seated beside him sighed. “Yes, Zeb, I am certain. I watched Chopper input the directions straight into the navicomputer before we took off from base.” Alexsandr replied firmly. 

Zeb stared back, mouth slightly ajar. “Karrabast, Alex! You know we can’t trust that rust bucket! Why didn’t you tell me that is where the directions came from! That thing probably sent us five sectors over from the pick up!” Growling, Zeb‘s fur stood up on end. 

Alexsandr deflated further, shoulders hunching forwards. “Oh. My mistake. I’ll make the next calculations manually.” 

A large paw laid itself heavily on Alexsandr’s shoulder as Zeb exhaled deeply. “Hey, it’s alright. We’ll get to where we need to.” 

“Eventually.” Alexsandr rebutted. 

Zeb chuckled, anger forgotten. He found that it was hard to stay mad when Alexsandr was around. A pleasant side effect. “Yeah, a bit late, but we’ll make it.” The laugh was infectious, and the former agent’s frown softened. Making eye contact, he even smiled, a slight upturn of the corner of his lips and a glittering of his eyes. He considered that a few extra hours with Zeb was hardly a bad thing, after all. 

A beep from the ship’s comm array quickly tore their attention from each other. “What now?” Zeb groaned as Alexsandr answered the hail. 

“Unidentified vessel, are you a friend of the Harch?” A mechanical voice asked through the speaker. Zeb mouthed the question again and wondered just who was the Harch? 

“We are not hostile.” Alexsandr eventually decided on, stating the sentiment crisply. 

The operator took a few moments to process the statement. “Please follow the transmitted coordinates to a docking bay so that we can greet you properly.” The transmission ended and Zeb bristled. 

“I don’t like the sound of that.” He uttered. Alexsandr was busy pulling up the transmission, ensuring it was not bugged. 

“The coordinates look clean. I think we should at least check it out, perhaps find a new ally for the Rebellion.” He offered. 

“Alex, always the opportunist.” Zeb added playfully. “I suppose it could not hurt seeing we are already behind. But at the first sign of something shady, we’re gone.” 

Alexsandr nodded. “I can agree to that.” 

As they lowered the shuttle, the blue swirls came into focus to reveal vast storming oceans dotted with erratic island chains, and as they descended further the islands revealed themselves to be carved out stone castles. Immaculate and ornate, it was almost ethereal to see harsh spires rise from relentless waves. “Maybe you have a good point, these people seem pretty well stocked.” Zeb commented. 

“Yes, well, one can never be certain. Be sure to bring your bo-rifle.” 

“Of course, me forgetting my bo-rifle would be like you forgetting to shape your beard.” Zeb joked, earning another gentle smile from Alexsandr, but there was also longing behind it, a darkening of his eyes. Of course. In Alexsandr’s desperate escape from Grand Admiral Thrawn and the Empire, he’d been forced to leave his own prized weapon behind. Zeb swore to himself to one day find the man a worthy replacement. 

In the meantime, once landed on an oddly deserted platform, Alexsandr holstered a blaster on his hip, and stuck a hold out in the small of his back hidden by his jacket. Zeb took the opportunity to admire the pale expanse of the human’s back, teasing along the spine with a padded finger. Alexsandr shuddered, turning around to steal a quick kiss. “Ready?” 

Zeb swung his bo-rifle over his shoulder, magnets locking it in place against his back. “Ready.” 

Stepping out onto the platform, one of the many large castles sprawled out before them, a central courtyard surrounded by thick walls in which the impressive structure sat, grey and looming. “These looked smaller in the air.” Zeb mused with a low whistle. 

“Hello sirs. The Harch welcomes you.” A similar voice to that from the comm called out from the edge of the platform. Flat and even like that of a droid, yet it was a male Twi’lek beckoning them closer. “Please, follow me.” 

Without waiting for a response, the being turned and entered the courtyard. Not wanting to be left behind, Zeb and Alexsandr followed. Within the walls was a lush garden full of bright and exotic plants, many of which the men could not even begin to identify. As if he could anticipate the question, their guide began to speak. 

“The Harch collects specimen of fruiting plants from around the galaxy to feature in his garden and feed his residents.” Pausing in front of a gnarly orange tree, the Twi’lek picked a stubby fruit, handing it to Zeb. “I believe you will find this to be familiar, Sir Lasat.” 

“Call me Zeb.” He replied quickly, turning the round object in his hands which dwarfed it to look more like a bite than a whole fruit. “Karrabast… I haven’t seen one of these in years.” 

“What is it?” Alexsandr asked as they made their way further through the grounds. 

“Zeipo fruit. Used to grow on…” Zeb‘s voice faltered, the end of the sentence not spoken. Alexsandr knew the omitted word, and allowed his partner a moment of quiet. Reverently, Zeb took a small bite of the Zeipo. His eyes closed blissfully as sticky juice exploded from the fruit, not escaping far down his chin before he lapped it up. He hummed happily, taking another bite. “Want a piece?” He asked, realizing it was already almost gone. 

“I believe it is much more meaningful to you, finish it.” Alexsandr replied, finding comfort in Zeb’s enjoyment. 

Zeb didn’t have to be told twice and downed the last piece with a satisfied smile, wiping his hands on his thigh. Alexsandr was already happy with the detour just for this, he’d have to thank Chopper when they got back, he joked internally. Still, there was something ominous about this Harch, so he’d not let his guard down entirely. 

Reaching the large stone doors of the castle, their guide stepped aside as a Duros woman opened them from the inside, ushering the two in further. Alexsandr noted that she wore the same, simple red robes as the Twi’lek, and the interior was furnished in similar colors, long tapestries and carpets in crimson with gold trim covering much of the hard rock. This Harch was obviously affluent, and both men sincerely hoped they would be sympathetic to their cause. 

The castle, despite its heavy construction, was quite spacious and full of light, streams of white falling from tall windows, casting long shadows while illuminating every inch of space. It was a stark change from the dark, cramped corridors of a spacecraft, and Zeb felt himself open up, rising to his full height and allowing himself to swing his arms freely. Alexsandr, however, felt exposed in the wide halls, dark corners where enemies could lurk grabbing his attention as they passed. 

Sensing the human’s distress, Zeb started pointing out that each tapestry displayed a different species in gold embroidery. One such example was a hanging showing several Weequay fighting some large beasts and then constructing massive freighters, taking to the skies at the top of the fabric. Perhaps, Alexsandr mused, it was based on some epic history of the Weequay, but he did not know enough about their culture to make such an assumption. 

Having traveled at least half way through the large building, they finally arrived at their destination, the Duros opening yet another massive hewn door, this one decorated in whirling carvings, to reveal a sort of library. A tinted glass dome cast pink light onto large shelves of scrolls and other artifacts. 

“Please, come in.” Said a deep, clicking voice. The owner of the voice had his back turned to the duo, but they could tell enough about them just from this view. The Harch was not just a name, he was indeed of that species, and a rather large specimen at that, four arms clasped behind his back while two more held a book from which he was studying. With a less than gentle shove from the Duros, and a Wookie guard neither had noticed, the doors were shut behind them. 

Turning around, the Harch appraised the pair with six beady red eyes, deep set in greyish white fur. The most distinctive feature, however, were two white mandible pinchers on the side of a fanged mouth, twitching ever so slightly with the Harch’s movements. They wore the same red as everything else in the castle, but it was rather a complex tunic with gold hems, ornate shoulder pads, and long, elegant sleeves. “Zeb, you said your name was?” The Harch asked, paying special attention to the Lasat. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Zeb responded, narrowing his eyes slightly. Had the Harch been listening in on their conversation with the Twi’lek through a comm? Supposing it was a security measure, he moved on. Cutting to the chase, he asked. “Where’d you get the Zeipo tree?” 

The Harch could not grin, but the eyes seemed to soften a bit, and their mandibles clacked together, perhaps that was considered laughter in the species. “Oh that? I’ve had it for nearly a century now.” His voice darkened. “I am pained to know that it, much like you, are the last of its kind.” 

Zeb shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his arms. “Yeah, well. Thanks for keeping it, I guess.” 

The Harch nodded. “And you, human?” 

“Alexi. Alexi Fodge.” Alexsandr wasn’t sure why he gave the fake name, close enough that Zeb couldn’t mess up so long as he stuck to his preferred ‘Alex’, but he did, and now he’d have to live with it. Probably had something to do with being a former imperial agent, hard to shake such ingrained training. He was at least glad he’d had a mind to grow out his hair somewhat, the infamous sharp lines of his sideburns softened into a full beard. 

If the Harch could sense the deception, he made no show of it. “Well then, welcome, Alexi and Zeb, to my estate.” Picking his book back up, he took a few steps closer. “I hope that you like what you see, Zeb. I pride myself on my collection here, and wish to learn about the Lasat culture from you, should you decide to stay.” 

Thrusting the book into Zeb’s hands, he quickly identified the script as Lasat. “This is…” Again, Zeb was floored. “This is the Book of Ashla.” 

Alexsandr didn’t have to take note of the awe in Zeb’s voice to know how sacred such a book was. There was no copy on the holonet, the words considered too powerful for digital imitation by the species, and it was likely that this was the only one in existence… much like Zeb and that fruit tree. 

“I rescued that text from the Empire. I apologize for any missing pages, but they were going to burn the item. Luckily, my inside connection was able to liberate it so that it could be preserved.” The Harch explained. Alexsandr fought not to stiffen at the mention of something so closely tied to his past. Was the Harch playing him? Trying to reveal that he knew the identity was a lie? Or was this just a coincidence, unavoidable seeing that this information would be relevant to Zeb. 

Clearing his head, he decided to just watch Zeb instead, cherishing the elation painted on his features. 

“I will leave you to browse, then.” The Harch said quietly, making his way to the door. “One of my attendants will call you for dinner, and from there we can decide what happens next. I look forward to our conversation then, Zeb.” 

The Wookie opened the door for the Harch, and then they were left to themselves. Alexsandr tested the door, it was not locked. Seeing that he memorized the halls on their way in, theoretically they could leave whenever they chose. It would be rude to abandon such a gracious host, however eerie their physical form was, Alexsandr eventually decided. Skimming the shelves, he eventually found an interesting looking tome about the Weequay’s long and glorious history of galactic piracy. He was not surprised to see the author was a ‘H. Ohnaka Sr.’ It figured that loon had come from a long line of outlaws. 

Settling down on a long bench next to Zeb, he dove into a surprisingly exciting book, the history told through daring stories with humorous anecdotes. But where Alexsandr was entertained by his reading, Zeb was entranced in The Book of Ashla. Alexsandr could not blame him, and again felt a pang of guilt that he was a large reason why the Lasat had been denied the simplest reminders of his culture for so long. He hoped he might get a chance to read it himself, but that would require staying past dinner and as interesting as this all was, they still had a mission for the rebellion. 

Knee deep in the book, time passed quickly, and soon yet another being came for them, a young Nikto with a soft yet monotone voice. Zeb and Alexsandr shared a weary glance, but followed after her regardless. Perhaps such patterns of speech were just a cultural thing on this planet, Zeb mused. Finding it impossible to set down the Book of Ashla, Zeb hesitated in the doorway. 

“You can bring it with you, if you like. The Harch just asks that you do not take it out of doors.” 

Nodding, Zeb held the book close to him, and soon they were again winding through the castle. After walking up a tight spiral stair, they found themselves in a long eating hall. Spread on the stone table were many delicacies from around the galaxy, all of it vegetarian. Neither minded, however, as it all looked delightful. 

“The Harch will join you shortly, feel free to try the food as you wait.” The Nikto turned to leave as Zeb and Alexsandr sat opposite each other, but the impressive size of the Harch filled the doorway. 

“Why don’t you join us, Pepta?” The Harch asked, and the Nikto nodded, taking a seat aside Zeb as the Harch placed himself at the head of the table. “I hope the spread is acceptable.” 

“It’s incredible.” Zeb replied, heartilly filling his plate. Alexsandr took more meager portions, but again the Harch paid it no mind. A habit more than anything, Alexsandr’s first bite was a small one, testing for any tells of tampering, but there were none so he allowed himself to eat freely. The conversation flowed just as easily, the Harch totally engaged in the stories Zeb would tell of the Lasat people, the sort of thing not listed in books. Occasionally even Pepta contributed, but it was never more than a few words or a simple question. 

Alexsandr had heard it all before, but was still content to hear Zeb happily ramble on about the honor guard and his family. He was also warmed to hear Zeb glaze over some details he’d told Alexsandr in the past, something confided just for him. Their own private secrets. Zeb might have had a near endless wealth of stories, but he could not talk forever and several hours later deferred to Alexsandr, not quite sure what to do next. 

“You seem like a highly cultured man, so I am sure you understand the threat that the Empire poses to such causes.” Alexsandr tested. Making sure the Harch’s inside source was someone more like, well, himself, than a loyal Imperial. 

The Harch contemplated this with a click. “Hm. Yes, Alexi. I would agree that their handling of interspecies affairs is less than ideal.” He shot what might have passed as a sympathetic glance to Zeb. “I’d like to think what I offer is a sanctuary for those who are threatened by their reign.” 

It was not the ideal answer, but Alexsandr could work with it. “Yes, a noble cause, sir. Myself and Zeb work for a similar goal.” 

“But we’d like to see it so that everyone can stay on their home planet and not be threatened.” Zeb added, a bit more than Alexsandr would have revealed just yet, but at least the Harch had a positive reaction. 

“Also a good cause. I suppose I am a bit of a middle man for the time being, providing shelter until, perhaps, your cause will prevail.” 

It would have to be all or nothing, then. “Our cause will only prevail with assistance from all who can afford it.” 

The Harch clacked his mandibles, seeming to size the human up. Zeb felt the Nikto beside him tense. He readied himself to draw his bo-rifle at the drop of a pin. 

“As noble a cause it is, I am afraid I can not afford it.” The Harch finally decided on, rising from his seat. Walking over to gaze onto his grounds from a large window, the Harch continued. “However, I know someone who may be interested in such a contribution.” 

Turning back, he pointed a clawed finger at Alexsandr. “They may be willing to meet with you. Alone.” 

Zeb’s ears flattened against his head. “We don’t like to deal with xenophobic sorts. If that is what you’re implying.” He said, a vaguely masked threat in there somewhere. Alexsandr understood the truth to that statement, but didn’t want to anger their host, at least not at this critical moment. The Empire was always just a call away, after all. 

The Harch continued. “Oh no, I do not mean that. They hold no ill will against the Lasat, or any species. However, they are a bit… skittish. I do not mean to be rude, but your scent and stature may make them… How can I put this lightly… Afraid.” 

“If they are afraid of me, how’d you get them to talk to you.” Zeb mumbled. 

“I send a representative for all my dealings. Just as I recommend you do now.” The Harch again folded his hands behind his back. “Their settlement is at the southern pole of this planet, your shuttle would be most appropriate for the journey.” 

Alexsandr thought it over, and quickly concluded that a private conversation would need to be had with Zeb. “We appreciate this information greatly. However, if it is not a problem, I’d like to discuss it with Zeb. Privately.” 

The Harch gestured to the doorway. “By all means.” 

Stepping into the hall, they retraced their steps back to the stairwell, finding one of those dark corners Alexsandr had initially feared and used it for their own chat. 

“This could be a huge find, if the Harch’s stash is anything to go off of. We might not even need to go to Hosnian.” Zeb started, sounding excited yet restraining himself. 

Alexsandr agreed. “However, he’s asking me to leave you here alone. Without the ship. I’d like to believe he’s being honest, but that does not sit well with me.” 

“If he is lying, it’s probably just to get some more time to talk with me. The guy is really into, well.” Zeb gestured across the way to one of the tapestries, this one depicting Mon Calamari. “Stories. Culture. And it looks like he’s been itching for Lasat intel for quite some time.” 

“Still, these attendants he has…” 

Zeb shrugged. “They seem content, I don’t see any chains or signs of illness. It's probably a sort of ‘I give you a room, you help out around the house’ situation. Not the first I’ve seen of that. Plus, if they are refugees, they probably are still coping with losing everything they’d ever known.” 

“But what if they are not.” Alexsandr whispered. Zeb took both of his hands into his own. 

“Alex. I can defend myself. Go check out that lead, I’ll be waiting for ya.” Kissing a knuckle, Zeb then started walking back to the dining hall. “Yeah?” 

Following close behind, Alexsandr tentatively agreed. His mind flashed to one of the pirate stories, one in which an infamous captain had pretended to be injured to gain passage onto another vessel, then in the night robbed the kind beings blind before taking off in an escape pod. He wasn’t sure why it suddenly took over his thoughts, but he shook it away, directing his attention back on the Harch when entering the hall. 

“I’ll leave for this south pole immediately, I’d appreciate a planetary map to be uploaded to my ships computer.” 

The Harch again contorted his face into a strange smile. “Certainly. I am happy to have assisted you both. I hope the journey proves to be a successful one, and that it was not a waste of valuable time.” 

“If what you say is true, then it should be anything but a waste.” 

The same Nikto from before, Pepta, escorted them to the front door, where the Twi’lek met them. Before allowing Alexsandr back into the shuttle, Zeb took one of his hands, pulling the human into an embrace. “Fly safe.” 

“Of course. And you be safe.” Alexsandr said, returning the gesture. Pulling back, he flashed a winning grin. “I’ll be back by morning.” 

Then, Alexsandr was off, and Zeb was left alone on the platform. Their guide waited patiently at the entrance to the garden. Zeb was not sure how he felt about spending the night in the Harch’s castle, but he’d not wished to jeopardize a potential score for the rebellion. He could defend himself. What was one Harch and a couple of refugees anyway, should things turn sour. 

Back in the garden, Zeb paused at the Zeipo tree. He still could not believe it was here, large and fruiting and so very alive. Just like him. Well, maybe not fruiting. But large and alive certainly applied. For just a moment, he thought about that sentiment. He and Alexsandr had never talked about the possibility of having kits of their own. As the last of his species, he’d been haunted by the fact that the extinction or survival of Lasat lay in his hands. Zeb had never even considered starting a family, devoting his life to the Honor Guard back on Lasan which forbade one from marrying, yet reading the Book of Ashla had rekindled his love for his culture and history. 

“You know, you may not be the last Lasat, after all.” 

Zeb whipped around, finding the Harch to be lingering behind him, standing under a sort of long stalked tree. Possibly a sort of palm from Scarif. 

“What do you mean by that. You know about the massacre. I was the only survivor.” Zeb responded, at attention and high alert. He’d been so lost in his thoughts he never heard the massive Harch approach. 

The Harch shrugged his six arms, craning his neck to look up the tall tree he stood beside. “There was a mercenary I once knew of your species. The sort who would not have been on Lasan for the massacre. I’m not sure if she’s still around, but it could be something worth looking into.” 

Zeb’s breath caught in his throat. There was no way this could be the same mercenary, Alexsandr’s mercenary. The one with Saw Guerra’s band of rebels. Of all the Lasat that could have survived… Shaking away the negativity, Zeb tried to be happy for this news. “I’ll have to ask around about it.” 

“Come inside with me, Zeb. There is more to the story.” Rendering the castle, Zeb figured he was to follow behind, but plucked another ripe Zeipo before doing so, downing it in a single bite. They went in another direction than before, eventually reaching the rear of the castle in what seemed to be a sort of craft room. A large loom dominated the center of the space. The Harch approached a long table on which one of the crimson tapestries sat. This one, however, was only half way complete. 

“Is that supposed to be her?” Zeb asked, immediately seeing that at the bottom was a Lasat warrior, bo-rifle engaged with energy and electric power swirling around a fighting stance. 

“Yes. With the talks we have, I was able to ascertain details of your warrior culture. But there was never any discussion of the spiritual side. And I will admit to having trouble translating, or even understanding, your Book of Ashla.” 

Zeb pieced the situation together. “You want my help in finishing your curtain here.” 

The Harch bristled. “It's a tapestry. And yes, I would appreciate any ideas or information you would share with me.” 

Tracing the gold lines stitched into the red fabric, Zeb began. “These swirls, these are a good start. The Ashla surrounds us; it is the spirit of all life, of the galaxy.” 

“Yes I know that much. But where does this guide you? What is the highest achievement of the Lasat, where is your final destination?” 

Zeb was not prepared for the question to cut him so deeply. Taking his hand off the tapestry, he gazed out the window, the grey horizon seeming to threaten him just for looking. “We never we able to get there. The Empire stole the opportunity from my people.” Zeb decided on. He was not sure now that he wanted to reveal guarded Lasat secrets such as the ancestral homeland of Lira San. The Harch had been tainted by a dishonorable warrior, and Zeb did not have the mental energy to try and make the being unlearn. 

“I see.” The Harch replied, sounding disappointed. “Perhaps then, it is best to leave the tapestry unfinished for now. As a memorial to this opportunity of which you speak.” 

Zeb didn’t have a response to that, staring silently outside. 

“And, when you do find your future and destination, I hope you will tell me. You are their legacy, Zeb.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He whispered. Zeb almost regretted releasing such a personal thought to what was essentially a stranger, and still a potential threat. But again, he’d agreed to this. And he was not lying to say he was exhausted. 

“I will have Pepta lead you to quarters. I am sure you will find them suitable.” 

“Thank you.” Zeb said, making his way back towards the doorway. Before he left, he stole a final glance back, watching the Harch approach his loom and begin delicately weaving, all six arms moving in unison to marry fine red threads together into a work of art. 


	2. Chapter 2

“I have given you a south facing room so that you can see your friend’s return.” Pepta said as she opened the door to Zeb’s room, finally breaking the silence in which they had walked. 

“That was, uh, thoughtful. Thanks.” 

Pepta bowed her head slightly. “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to call for me.” 

Zeb was about to ask how, but then he noticed the comm set on the bedside table. “I will.” 

And then, he was truly alone. The room was spacious, a large bed and wardrobe not even beginning to fill the space. The rug on the floor, red like everything else with gold trim, was pleasant on Zeb’s feet. Peeking into the refresher, it was equally airy with a narrow window near the ceiling to allow for delicate ambient lighting. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Zeb again looked out to the horizon, almost wishing he’d see Alex’s ship returning early. A part of him deep down asked if he’d see him return at all. 

“Of course he’s coming back. Just a quick chat and then he’ll be right out there, flying over the waves.” He said aloud to himself, hoping that vocalizing it would make it true. 

Day turned to night quickly, and cleverly hidden lights began to illuminate the space instead of the windows, artificial illumination coming from behind the furniture and where the walls met the ceiling. It was quite romantic, Zeb mused. He had a nice thought about just what he and Alex could do with so much space, a lovely contrast to their bunks on the Ghost or in the barracks on base. Was a bit of a shame that Alex didn’t wait until morning, but Zeb understood that they didn’t have infinite time. 

Sinking back into the soft stack of pillows, Zeb tried to sleep, dimming the lights down and closing his eyes. Crawling under the covers, he was comfortable, but something kept him from rest. Frankly, a long pillow clutched to his chest was no substitute for his partner. 

So, eventually becoming restless, Zeb rolled to the edge of the bed and flopped his legs over the side. Silently walking to the entry on toe-tips, he slid open the door and slipped into the hall. Similar lights dimly lit the way as he wandered around, looking over dozens of tapestries and wondering just how long the Harch had been here to make so many. He also wondered how many were based on visitors, or residents, and which simply came from books. 

Hearing footsteps approach, the footsteps of something big- possibly the Wookie- Zeb leapt into the nearest doorway. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it, pressing an ear against the stone to wait for the being to pass. However, even when the threat was gone, Zeb could not leave the room. 

It was even larger than the dining hall, and every inch of space held a taxidermy creature. At first, it was innocent enough. Zeb passed by stuffed bathas, a shaak, and even a wampa. All non-sentients, exotic game. As creepy as it was to Zeb, it was not quite offensive. But then he saw it. A Wookie frozen mid-run, dashing through a display of fake trees and glass eyed forest critters. 

Then there was a whole circle of Ewoks, seeming to roast a… Zeb had to lean in closer to be sure. Yes, that was a preserved Rodian tied to their cooking rack. The being was far too realistic to be a reproduction, large false eyes frozen in fear for all eternity. 

The most disgusting part was the further Zeb went into the room, the worse it got. A pair of Twi’leks, a Sullustan, even a Mandalorian, gleaming helmet tucked under his arm as he held up a blaster. 

Zeb felt like he might be sick, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching the end. Then, perched on a platform between two narrow windows, was a Lasat. The woman’s clothes were a bit tattered, but mended with red thread. She had not gone down without a fight, and bore the scars of many a battle. And in her hand was a pristine bo-rifle, extended and ready for the attack. 

Having to cover his mouth to stifle a cry of anguish, Zeb fell to his knees. The Harch was not just curious in culture and stories, he was a pelt collector, adding to his sick zoo with each death under his care. Now, Zeb was just as nervous as Alexsandr about the strange, almost droid-like demeanor of the Harch’s help. Probably even more so, seeing what the Harch was capable of. 

This mercenary had survived the raid on Lasan, but she’d died at the Harch’s dishonorable hand. Zeb’s every instinct told him to run, but there was nowhere to go but that deadly, unrelenting ocean. He’d not seen another ship on the property, after all. 

He would have to play this smart if he was going to make it till Alexsandr’s return. If he even did return. The pit of anguish sat firmly in Zeb’s core. Now, all bets were off as to what the Harch was capable of. For all he knew, the South Pole could be an Imperial base. 

Zeb remembered the comm left in his room. He could surely rig it to give Alex an encrypted warning. He wanted to leave this museum of horror, but was drawn to the mercenary, and her weapon. 

“I am sorry.” He uttered, honoring her with the final rites in his native tongue to join Ashla, and then pried the bo-rifle from stiff fingers. Clutching it to his chest, he left the room, keeping both ears on alert to anything approaching. 

By some miracle, he made it back to his quarters unseen. Closing the door behind him, another surprise awaited him. The bed was made back up, and Pepta was standing at the foot of the bed, tucking in the comforter. 

“Oh, I am sorry, I thought you had begun your day when you left. I will leave you.” 

Zeb’s words caught in his throat. Had she noticed the second rifle? Obviously she knew he’d wandered around. As she approached, Zeb grabbed her shoulder with one hand, holding her still. “Wait.” 

Pepta stopped in her tracks, looking up at Zeb. “Do you require something? A glass of water?” 

Shaking his head, Zeb replied. “No, no. Just. Don’t tell anyone I was out for a walk, ok?”

“You are not a prisoner here. You are permitted an evening stroll if you so desire.” 

Zeb decided he had to ask. “Are you?” 

“Am I what?” Pepta asked, painfully innocent. 

“Are you a prisoner here.” 

Pepta did not reply immediately, which was strange seeing how she usually did not hesitate to act or speak. A brief expression of confusion crossed her features before they returned to hard neutrality. “I provide for the Harch, and he provides for me.” 

“You choose to be here?” 

Another lapse. This could not be good. “I suppose so, yes.” 

That’s not the sort of answer Zeb had wanted, but he could not hold the girl here much longer, that would look even more suspicious. “Alright. If you say so. Goodnight, Pepta.” 

“So no glass of water then?” She asked, deadpan. Zeb almost chuckled, thinking it could pass as an attempt at humor. 

“Yes, no water. Sleep well.” 

“You too, Garazeb.” 

Zeb did not even have time to be shocked at her use of his full name as she left without another word, closing the door behind her. 

“Now how does she know that.” Zeb said softly, setting the second bo-rifle down and picking up the comm. Cracking it open, he found it already was re-wired to only be for close range. This was going to take a while, but he was determined. 

The sun was beginning to rise over the turbulent horizon by the time Zeb was ready with his rigged comm, but then he noticed a familiar dot hovering above the sea. Tossing the comm across the room, Zeb fell face first on the pillows. He was beyond exhausted, and all the work was for nothing. Alexsandr was on his way back. Lifting his head back up, however, he saw that as the ship got closer, more dots began to materialize. 

There was a knock at his door. Grabbing the second rifle with his foot, he shoved it under the comforter. “Yes?” 

Pepta entered the room. “It is time for breakfast. Your presence has been requested by the Harch.” 

Zeb squinted at the new figures, trying to figure out what they were. “Yeah, give me a moment.” 

“Let me rephrase. Your presence is required immediately.” Pepta insisted, voice somehow growing colder. A low growl then came from the doorway. Zeb looked over to see a Wookie accompanying the Nikto. 

“Very well.” He sighed, launching himself out of the bed. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time, he was unsettled by the dots growing a line on either side. Those could be TIE Fighters, and that was about the worst news they could get. Maybe that was their new ally, flying repurposed Imperial wares. But salvaging a TIE was tricky business with them being so fragile, and something told Zeb these locals were not traveling off world to steal from the Imperial supply docks. 

Things were just getting worse and worse. 

Zeb was tired, irritable, and jumpy at breakfast. His replies to the Harch’s never ending questions were sharp, and he mostly just drank bitter caf, hoping it could wake him up. As usual, it didn’t work and he was just left feeling uncomfortably warm. What he wouldn’t do for some Lasan pink tea… 

Finally, the Harch snapped. “Fine. If you will not tell me anything more, I will just learn it myself. Pepta! I believe our guest is ready.” 

“Yes, sir.” The girl said, grabbing Zeb’s forearm in a shockingly harsh vice grip and yanking him to his feet. The Wookie then restrained him, the furry being struggling to fight against Zeb’s sudden protest. 

“What? Ready for what? What’s going on?” Zeb howled, biting and scratching at an immovable fortress of fur and muscle. 

“I’ve decided on the length of your stay.” The Harch began, leading a procession down into the bowls of the castle. 

“Karrabast…” Zeb first swore under his breath, then something hit him “Where is Alexsandr!” Zeb cried out, instantly realizing his mistake, and prioritizing the other man over his own well being. 

“Alexsandr? Kallus, I assume. Then I was correct in my suspicions. Good. This means I truly did not waste anyone’s time.” Zeb hung his head in shame at the Harch’s words. Those were TIE fighters, and not the repurposed kind. 

“So while we were reading, you were doing your own research.” Zeb grumbled. “Let me guess, Pepta here helped you out.” 

The Harch gave Zeb an appraising look. “Hm. Seems you are smarter than the average Lasat. Or at least observant. What gave it away?” 

“Like I’d tell you.” Zeb spat. 

“I revealed my knowledge of his full name.” Pepta admitted. 

The Harch nodded. “Perhaps not.” 

A familiar, gut wrenching sound echoed through increasingly narrow passageways. It was Alex, screaming in pain! With renewed strength, Zeb fought against the Wookie and won, taking off down the hall in the opposite direction. 

“Stop him!” The Harch screeched, barreling down the hall and gaining on Zeb. But the Lasat’s lead was too much and he soon lost the Harch in the maze that was the castle. Remembering the tapestry order from the night before, he made his way back to the quarters to retrieve the bo-rifles, and try and come up with a plan. 

Commotion outside made up his mind quickly on what to do, and he broke the window, crawling out to the rough stone exterior of the castle, perfect for climbing. Digging sharp claws in, Zeb began scaling the curved wall. 

“Sorry Alex, but I’m going to need you to scream again…” Zeb uttered, and his wish was granted by another guttural yell. Pinpointing the origin of the sound, Zeb clambered his way up the castle to a high tower, breaking in through another window and rushing up the stairs. At the top, he found himself face to face with a screeching Harch, sharp fangs glittering in the low light. 

“Whoops! Wrong way!” Zeb huffed, turning back and barreling down the stairs. Pepta was waiting for him with an electro prod brandished, but Zeb knocked her over with an extended bo-rifle, acting on instincts gained in a life of fighting. He kept going, zig zagging through twisted halls, trying to circle his way towards Alexsandr, but at every turn there was an enemy waiting for him. 

The Harch was two steps ahead of him, and seemed to have set up a sort of perimeter around Zeb, and it was closing in fast. 

“What do you want?” Zeb roared, igniting his own bo-rifle and brandishing it towards the Harch, keeping the Wookie to his right in his vision. 

The Harch folded one set of hands across his chest, the other snaked down towards the folds in his robe. “I want you, Zeb.” Then, with quick reflexes the massive being drew a blaster from the crimson fabric. The last thing Zeb saw was the blue glow of a stun bolt, unable to counter it at such short range. 

“Take him.” The Harch growled to the Wookie, following close behind, paying attention for any twitch to indicate the stun had worn off. Lasat had proved to be sturdy beings, it would not surprise him if another bolt might be required. It had taken three to quell the mercenary, after all. 


	3. Chapter 3

“-up! You can do it, Zeb, wake up!” 

Zeb blinked his eyes open to intense light and a familiar voice. “Alex?” 

Alexsandr gasped in relied. “Oh good you are alright. Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah.” Zeb guaranteed, eyes adjusting to the bright light of, wait, was this their shuttle? It all came rushing back to him then and he shot up on the bunk, a spear of pain piercing through his skull. He reached up to rub at a bandaged spot on the top of his head. 

“Careful, please Zeb, you have to take it easy.” Alexsandr suggested as softly as he could manage, still coming off tense. 

Laying back down, Zeb nodded, Alexsandr’s face finally coming into focus. “You look tired.” 

“Yeah well you try fighting your way out of that castle while dragging your boyfriend behind you.” Alexsandr grumbled sarcastically, taking one of Zeb’s hands into his own. “I’m just glad we are on our way back to base.” 

“But-” Zeb began to protest, only to have a slice of Zeipo fruit placed against his mouth that he accepted happily. Seems Alexsandr had taken a moment to grab one more before leaving. Just like him to be so incredibly thoughtful. 

“I’m fairly certain we already missed whatever was waiting for us on Hosnian Prime. Besides, I want that cut on your head checked out before doing anything else.” Alexsandr’s face suddenly went grave. 

“What happened?” Zeb asked, equally serious. 

Alexsandr passed him another piece of the fruit. “I was able to escape the interrogation they hastily set up in the castle. Leave it to the empire to underestimate a defector. So, then I set out to find you and was able to surprise them right before…” 

Alexsandr’s voice drifted then. “Before what?” Zeb insisted. 

“They wanted to put a mind control chip in your head. Those residents… They are not refugees, they are slaves.” Alexsandr continued. “I was able to hack into the controls but.” He paused again, looking off at nothing in particular. “I did not realize that deactivating the chips would kill them.” 

Zeb laid a gentle hand on Alexsandr’s face, nudging his focus back on him. “Hey. You did what you thought was right.” 

Alexsandr nodded slightly. “Yes but… Zeb. They're dead. All of them. They were innocent.” 

“I know. But they are no longer slaves to that Harch.” 

Alexsandr flicked a tear from the corner of his eye. “If I’d had more time…” 

“More Imps would have shown up soon I’m sure. You did what needed to be done.” Zeb reassured him, pulling the human down closer. “Thank you for saving me.” He whispered when Alexsandr’s head was flush against his chest. The human choked back a sob. Zeb ran his other hand along his hair, gently threading claws through straight blonde locks. 

They lay like that for a while, holding each other close. But soon, the shuttle lurched as it dropped out of hyperspace. “I should go pilot us down.” Alexsandr murmured. 

“I’ll go with you.” Zeb said in a voice that said he’d not take no for an answer. So, Alexsandr helped Zeb up to his feet. His balance was a bit shaky but otherwise he seemed to be alright. He also noticed two objects propped up across the room. 

“You grabbed the bo-rifles too?” Zeb asked, astonished. 

“Of course.” Alexsandr picked the new one up, igniting the ends which crackled with pale blue energy. “I’ve never seen a blue one before. Does it have any sort of significance?” 

Zeb found the comment a bit odd seeing the color was not exactly uncommon back in the Honor Guard. Then again… He’d never really talked to Alexsandr about exactly what he’d seen that day. Not wanting to think about it further, Zeb continued towards the cockpit, plopping down in the co-pilot’s seat. “No, color is just determined by personal preference of the artisan. I hope you like it. Bit of a blank slate to start with, no close range mods.” 

Alexsandr slid into the seat beside him, taking over manual control of the ship. “Yes, I suppose so.” 

“We could spar once we get down. Figure out what changes you want to make.” Zeb offered. Alexsandr’s first bo-rifle had been heavily altered, adjustments made to maximize its efficiency in close range combat with a gnarly pointed axe-blade added like an evolved bayonet to boot. 

Alexsandr chuckled. “Not until you have a clean bill of health from medbay.” 

“Fine. Fine.” Zeb had to laugh, it was endearing how much Alexsandr cared for him, even if it got in the way of what he wanted at times. Once the shuttle landed, a familiar face was waiting to greet them at the base of the ramp. 

“Any luck boys?” Hera asked, hand on her hip and a welcoming smile on her face. 

Zeb grunted. “That bucket of bolts of yours sent us to a proper house of horrors I’ll have you know.” He pointed to the bandage on his head to accentuate his point, ears flattening as Chopper rolled next to their owner. “Chop put the wrong coordinates in.” 

Hera’s expression shifted to a more agitated one, glaring down at Chopper who shrugged with mechanical arms. Alexsandr followed behind Zeb, carrying the two bo-rifles. “We did have one success but our host turned out to be an Imperial sympathizer.” 

“You can tell me the details later, just get Zeb to the medical center while I have a word with my droid.” 

Continuing through the base, the pair made their way to the medbay where Zeb was promptly accosted by a Zeltron nurse. 

“Good luck.” Alexsandr encouraged as the doors closed in his face as the nurse said something about him needing to wait outside. With Zeb gone inside to see a doctor or more likely, a med droid, Alexsandr left the medbay to look around the base. He did not make it far before being interrupted. 

“Whoa what’s that?” A young voice called out and soon Ezra appeared in front of Alexsandr. “Where did you get it?” 

“It is a bo-rifle and why are you acting like you have never seen one before?” Alexsandr replied bruskly. 

“Hey, I’m just curious. It is new, isn’t it?” Ezra implored. 

“Yes it is new, to me at least.” 

After a moment’s pause, a look of understanding dawned on Ezra’s face. “Zeb’s hurt, isn’t he?” 

“Yes, but he is in the medical center now and should be quite alright.” 

Ezra patted Alexsandr’s shoulder. “Good to hear. I’ll be sure to stop by if they keep him for more than a few hours.” 

“Thank you, I am sure Garazeb will appreciate that.” 

Much to Alexsandr’s annoyance, the young Jedi did not go away. “Yeah. I heard about your mission. If Hera wasn’t so fond of him, and so scary, I’d say you have every right to smack the can around.” 

“For all of his faults, Chopper is still a member of the team.” 

“He’s got faults alright. Faulty wiring!” Ezra joked, earning a thin smile from Alexsandr. 

“Eh I still might bash his dome in.” A new voice chimed in from behind. Before Alexsandr could respond, Zeb pulled him in for a hug. “Checked over and debriefed. I’m all clear, love.” 

“Ew. Get a room you two.” Ezra chided with a wink. “Glad to see you are good. I’ll leave you guys to it.” 

Once Ezra was out of earshot, Alexsandr mumbled. “I thought he would never leave.” 

Zeb shrugged. “Kids will be kids, what are you going to do?” Mischievously, he plucked his bo-rifle from under Alexsandr’s arm. “Still up for that sparring match?” 

Once again knowing he could not refuse, Alexsandr nodded. “Lead the way.” 

Not having a proper practice room on base, the pair found themselves clearing space in a storage hangar, eventually having a fairly wide berth of floor space to work with. “Just don’t bump into the piles and we’ll be good.” Zeb joked, taking a wide stance and preparing his bo-rifle. 

Lunging, Zeb attacked first, Alexsandr reacting with a sluggish parey and not taking the chance to strike on the short second Zeb was open. It was not long before the human was on the ground. 

“Karrabast! You’re fighting worse than Chopper.” Zeb chided, helping Alexsandr to his feet. 

“I’m just a bit rusty. Again?” 

Mirroring Zeb’s stance now, Alexsandr took initiative, blue sparking against yellow with each strike. But, once again, Kallus ended up at the business end of the weapon, Zeb actually making contact with his shoulder. 

“Now you’re just copying me. Is that one really so different to use?” Zeb asked, genuinely concerned. 

“One has to walk through the basics before mastery can be regained.” Alexsandr retorted as he regained his breath, refusing Zeb’s help to get back on his feet. “Again?” 

Zeb complied but when the results were nearly the same as the first two times, Alexsandr simply repeating his own steps back to him, he refused a fourth bout. “Practice on a dummy or something. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“How am I supposed to learn if you won’t help me?” Alexsandr argued back. 

Zeb’s hackles raised. “What do you mean ‘learn’? Alex, you know all this stuff already. It should be like second nature to you.” Stepping closer to the human, he laid his hands firmly on his shoulders. Staring down into his eyes, he tried to find an answer. Something was just not adding up. 

“What are you doing?” Alexsandr asked as one of Zeb’s hands drifted up to his head, shuffling his hair around. 

“I’m lookin’.” Zeb grunted, worried about what he might find. Alexsandr began to resist, trying to shove Zeb away, but the Last just tightened his grip, concern growing. 

“Stop it! I’m fine! Unhand me!” 

This only encouraged Zeb to keep going, but soon a sharp jolt struck his core, Alexsandr had ignited his bo-rifle and struck him! Fighting through the pain, Zeb wrenched the weapon from the human’s grip and threw it away. Wrapping a thick arm around Alexsandr to hold him and his arms still, he continued his search and soon found what he was afraid of. 

A thin but fresh red incision, rapidly closed with bacta but not fully healed traveled from just behind his temple towards the back of his head. The cut was about four inches in length. “Those bastards.” Zeb growled before the ball of his hand smacked against Alexsandr’s temple, knocking him out instantly. “Sorry but this is for your own good.” 

Dragging the unconscious human behind him, Zeb found himself back at medbay trying to explain to a nurse and then the doctor about mind control chips. “And when you deactivate them, the person dies. Or at least, that’s what he said. Knowing what we do now, I think it was a threat.” 

The doctor, a Chagrian woman named Dr. Kownan, nodded. “That would seem to be the case, however by looking at the chip it is likely that I can determine if there is any truth to the claim.” 

Zeb was a little bit relieved but was still incredibly shaken by all this. He didn’t let his mind wander too far on the possibility of the threat not being an idle one. 

“Luckily for you, this is a new installation so hopefully there is not much scar tissue rooting it in.” Dr. Kownan added. “I would like to operate immediately.” 

Giving his consent to the doctor due to being noted as Alexsandr’s ‘next of kin’ on medical records, more a formality than truth for this sort of thing, Zeb was escorted to the waiting room where the rest of the Spectre’s were amassed. Chopper gave Zeb the closest thing to an apology the droid could muster, to which Zeb announced he would not smash in his dome. 

“If the doctor needs some help with the technical side of it, I think I can offer some knowledge on such chips.” Sabine told the nurse who said she would let Dr. Kownan know about the offer. 

“Now we just wait.” Zeb sighed as he sunk into a rather uncomfortable chair. The exhaustion of this whole affair was beginning to seep into his bones, and it was not long before Zeb fell into a restless sleep. 

“Should we wake him up?” Ezra asked, glancing over at a snoring Lasat coming closer to falling out of his seat with every breath. Chopper pinched the air, offering his services in waking up the being. 

Hera shook her head. “No, let him rest. He will need it.” 

Dr. Kownan, however, had other plans, sending a nurse out to get Zeb. With a grunt, he roused himself and followed the nurse into an examination room. “We want to do another scan on you, now that we know chips were in fact installed, and that Alexsandr was under their influence.” 

With a deep breath, Zeb nodded his head. “Alright, but if there is one in there… It’s not active. Wait, does this mean we can safely remove them?” 

“The doctor believes so, yes.” 

Held tension released from his body at the good news, Zeb settled down into the examination chair. “Alright, do what you have to do.” 

A medical droid was summoned for the operation, first putting Zeb into a deep anesthesia induced slumber before cutting him back open. They found a chip right where the human’s was, but it seemed to be in a passive mode, collecting information rather than controlling the Lasat. It was promptly removed and destroyed when the signal was unable to be traced, probably cut by the owner when removed for safety. 

As both men were left to sleep off the procedures, Hera went to try and recover the shuttle’s flight data but found the entire system wiped aside from their base’s location. “Not good.” She muttered, summoning Chopper. “What coordinates did you put in?” 

The droid admitted to sending them a few degrees off vector as revenge for being fallen on top of during one of Zeb and Ezra’s fights, but swore they had no idea about the Imperial presence there. 

“Yeah, well I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” Ezra added, having been assisting Hera in her search. “Don’t mess with official Rebellion stuff.” 

Chopper gave a passive aggressive assent, which is the best they could hope for from the grumpy droid, and was sent on his way as Hera finished the wipe on the shuttle. 

“Now we just have to wait and see if the Empire was made privy to the location.” She added. 

Ezra folded his arms, leaning against the hull. “I don’t know. That Harch guy could be holding the information for himself, waiting until he needs something from the Empire himself. A Rebel base location is a pretty good bargaining chip, I’d say.” 

Hera didn’t like the sound of that, but it was better than most of the alternatives. “I guess we’ll have to start making preparations to leave, then.” 

“Guess so.” 

Some time later, in the medical center, the haze of anesthesia began to wear off and Zeb sat up slowly. 

“Welcome back, Zeb. We successfully removed a mind control chip from your head, and now you are truly cleared medically. I apologize for the initial oversight, we had every reason to believe Alezsandr’s claim.” A new nurse greeted him. 

Zeb yawned, saying the first thing on his mind. “Where’s Alex.” 

“He’s in the next room over but-” Zeb didn’t stay long enough to head the nurses warning as he barreled out to find his boyfriend. 

Storming into that next room, he found Alexsandr sitting up, head bandaged and expression neutral as he spoke with Dr. Kownan. Not waiting for an invitation, Zeb bent down and wrapped thick arms around the human. “Oh karrabast you are alive! I was so worried!” 

“I… Yes. Thank you?” Alexsandr said, sounding confused. 

Zeb pulled back when the hug was not reciprocated. “Alex?” 

“I know you, don’t I? You look familiar. I should know you, shouldn’t I. I’m so sorry. I can’t remember.” 

Zeb swore under his breath. Dr. Kownan laid a cool hand on his forearm. “Alexsandr is having some trouble sorting his memories. Give it a few days and he should make progress.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Zeb hissed. “Progress?” 

The doctor took a deep breath. “The chip was ingrained deeper than I would have liked, so the procedure was forced to be much more invasive than your own.” 

Zeb sat down on the bed beside Alexsandr, resisting the urge to pull the human close. 

Alexsandr gave the Lasat a closer look. “You look very familiar. I do hope we were friends, the way you seem to care about me would suggest that.” 

“Yeah, you could say we were friends.” Zeb smiled weakly. Alexsandr returned the gesture. 

“That’s good to hear.” 

The doctor gave them both a reassuring look. “Talking this all out will help. If you need anything, come right back, but you are both free to leave.” 

Standing up, Alexsandr turned to Zeb. “If you are willing to discuss it with me, I’d greatly appreciate any information you’d share with me.” 

Zeb offered his hand, still a bit overwhelmed by this new development. Alexsandr took it, and it felt just as he knew it would, the grip keeping him grounded to the moment. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Believe it or not, we used to be enemies…” Zeb began, leading the way towards the Ghost without really thinking about it. 

They found themselves sitting in the common area of the freighter, sipping some caf that Hera wordlessly passed on after Zeb re-introduced her to Alexsandr. 

Zeb’s voice caught when he reached a certain point in their history. Taking a long sip of his drink, he continued. “Well, it wasn’t any place special really, just a forest moon. But something about it, sitting up in a tree, waiting for our signal to fire on the scouts… We kissed. Alex, we kissed. And it was fire and ice and everything I thought I’d never deserve to feel. You… You were my other half.” 

Alexsandr, for the first time in hours, held up his hand, interrupting Zeb. “I… I don’t know how, but I know. I remember.” 

Feeling his eyes begin to well with tears at this, Zeb stated down into warm brown eyes full of understanding and curiosity and he felt it again. It was just a spark, but the affection he felt remained, and he knew it was reciprocated. And that was the thing about sparks, they could be cared for and rekindled time and time again. 

That’s how the rebellion worked, after all, and who was to say that wasn’t how anything worth loving, worth dying for, functioned. 

“I love you, Alex.” Zeb whispered, the words escaping him before he could think better. 

Alexsandr moved along the bench until he was next to the Lasat, placing a hand on top of a trembling purple one. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” Zeb quickly added. “We still are just getting to know each other. Sort of.” 

“Every time you say something new, I feel another memory resurface. I… I want to be able to feel the same way.” 

Zeb wrapped his arm around the human’s shoulders, wide for the species but narrow to him. “Take the time you need. I’ll be right here.” 

Alexsandr smiled genuinely. “Thank you, Zeb.” 

“I’m not giving up on you. Trust me, I’ve waited on you before. Nothing stopping me from doing it again.” 

“I hope this time is less painful that that whole Empire thing. Sounds dreadful.” 

Zeb agreed. “You were just confused is all. That’s what the Empire does, twists noble beliefs into blind following. You were real strong, getting out of there and helping us out.” 

“Sounds like you were what I needed to come to my senses, so thank you. Again. For waiting for me.” Alexsandr blushed, realizing he was starting to repeat himself. 

Zeb ran a hand through familiar silky blonde hair. “I suppose I have a way with words.” He said to lighten the mood, to which Alexsandr chuckled. “Now then, where was I?” 

“We kissed. And it was, as you put it but in fewer words, perfect.” 

Now it was Zeb’s turn to blush. “Yeah, well, you’re also pretty persuasive, alright.” 

“I’d like to try it for myself sooner than later, so keep talking. Prepare yourself for when I have my memories back.” 

Zeb shuddered, closing his eyes to enjoy such an imagined situation, fantasizing about that moment. “Still have your fighting spirit, don’t you.” 

“I lost my memories, not my entire personality.” 

Alexsandr moved closer still to the Lasat, nuzzling against his side. “So what happened after we kissed?” 

Zeb grinned, diving back into his story with renewed passion, knowing things were going to turn out just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was fun! I hope it has been for you all as well!   
> If you liked it, a comment and kudo is greatly appreciated <3


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